


You Can't Believe Everything You Read in the Papers

by pesha



Category: Entourage (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-25
Updated: 2009-12-25
Packaged: 2019-06-22 05:42:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15575013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pesha/pseuds/pesha
Summary: Adrian likes trash magazines and gossip. Neither are going to win him a Nobel but at least he's happy and that's something Kevin can appreciate.





	You Can't Believe Everything You Read in the Papers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dirty_diana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirty_diana/gifts).



> The prompts were "tequila" and "starfuckers" so I hope this is at least close to what my recipient was looking for. I know I had fun trying with this one.
> 
> Note from diana, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Pretty Lights](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Pretty_lights), which closed for financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Pretty Lights collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/prettylights/profile).

Adrian tosses a copy of some gossip rag or another onto the table in front of him. Kevin catches a glimpse of himself and a model he allegedly had more than a few drinks with at some point in time in the recent past. He has no idea where Adrian is going with this but he has a feeling it’s going to give him a headache and maybe make him wish he’d quit the business for real when he’d  _said_  he was quitting the business for real.   
  
“You’re such a slut. How is it that my character is the slut and you’re the goody-goody?”   
  
Kevin snorts, puts down his Blackberry, “Because you’re the star in this one, asshole. People expect stars to be slutty. It’s part of the life.”   
  
“How they see the life, you mean.”   
  
Adrian says it as if he’s all deep or shit. Kevin hasn’t known him for long but he knows the guy’s far from philosophical no matter how much pot his parents smoked back in the day. He doesn’t mind that Adrian’s trying to play himself off that way though; it’s honestly kind of flattering, that he wants Kevin to think he’s a thinker-type. Kevin wonders where Adrian got the idea that he likes thinkers when Adrian is the one bringing in pictures of him with models and calling him a slut.   
  
“Whatever, man. It’s too early for deep. You really want to play Vince differently?”   
  
“I don’t know. Maybe. Chicks like the idea of being with someone experienced but no girl likes the thought of being with a player, know what I mean?”   
  
Not really. No. Kevin thinks he definitely needs more coffee if his day is going to revolve around conversations like this one. He pockets his phone and motions toward craft services before getting up to wander that direction. Adrian stays a careful distance away from him –back and slightly to the side, as if they’re still compensating for him, still filming- and it’s all Kevin can do not to say something about it just to fuck with the guy’s calm.   
  
“I guess you don’t know what I mean. Manwhore.”   
  
Kevin laughs because it’s so fucking random that it’s funny. He’s been called plenty of things in his time but manwhore? That’s not one of them. He doesn’t think he’s fucked enough girls to count as a manwhore. At least not this year...last year, when he wasn’t working? Well, it’s a good thing this year isn’t last year.   
  
“I don’t think I’ve fucked enough girls this year to qualify for  _manwhore_  status. What’s all the interest in my sex life anyway? So I get a few photos taken with a model or two when I’m out; who gives a shit? I’m just trying to have a good time, man. That’s all.”   
  
Adrian stops even with him while he gets his coffee. He looks amused, intense, and exactly like someone who is about to say something he knows is going to leave an impact.   
  
“A good time? I bet you don’t even remember that one’s name.”   
  
The girl in the photo? Kevin remembers her name. He remembers it; it doesn’t matter but he remembers it.   
  
“Fuck you. She was on the cover of  _Maxim_. Trust me, half the men in LA know her name. She knows she’s a good time and I didn’t make her any promises I didn’t keep.”   
  
Adrian’s grin widens. He’s about to crack up laughing at him and Kevin wishes he got the joke because he has a feeling he could really have a fun laughing with Adrian.   
  
“So you’re collecting cover models?”   
  
The coffee is good. Fresh and rich and humming with humor-saving energy. Kevin decides to go with it, laugh along.   
  
“Fuck collecting, man. I’m just leasing ‘em for a while before I turn ‘em back in for a newer model.”   
  
They laugh together and it’s easy, every bit as much fun as Kevin thought it would be. He likes the way Adrian laughs. It reminds him of all the good things about being on set again, being a part of the business.   
  
~*~   
  
“You’re dating the Olsen twins?”   
  
Adrian has a thing for trash-mags. Kevin thought it was bullshit at first, but now he’s used to it. It can be fucking hysterical when it’s Piven he’s throwing the gossip at. Kevin’s grown up in the business; having Adrian call him out on tabloid what-ifs is honestly pretty refreshing, reminds him what it felt like to care what other people think.   
  
“No. I’m steadfastly  _not_  dating anyone.”   
  
Adrian laughs, “That’s right, I remember. You’re a manwhore. Wait though, didn’t you say you hadn’t fucked enough chicks this year to be a manwhore? You trying to catch up the numbers with two-for-one specials?”   
  
Kevin is about to reply when Piven smacks him in the head with Vince’s so-called paper. He shoots him the finger and smoothes his hair down. They’re still filming and he has plans for the night that definitely do not involve a set of famous twins.   
  
“Oh no, lucky charm. I’m not interested and I don’t think I’m your type anyway. I’m not blond enough and my name isn’t big enough to get your dick hard from what I’ve seen.”   
  
“Keep it up, Piven. That kind of talk only serves to make me look better in comparison.”   
  
“Something’s gotta help, right? Call it charity on my part.”   
  
Adrian snatches his paper back and flips to show the pictures of Kevin with Ashley. He could tell him those were photoshopped but it’s not like it matters. They float in similar circles and that’s all that it takes to wind up on trash covers. Kevin misses something Adrian says while Piven is giving him his own one-finger salute goodbye on his way off set.   
  
“What?”   
  
“I asked if that was it: the secret to your revolving door of conquests. Are you a  _starfucker_?”   
  
He says it with a smile and a laugh. Both are real but Kevin isn’t feeling it. He’s heard that from too many people before to make it tolerable to hear again. He focuses on Adrian’s smile, tells himself to keep in mind how awesome it is to laugh with Adrian.   
  
“If I was, I guess that would suck for you, wouldn’t it?”   
  
“How do you figure that? Vince is the star. E is just his  _manager_.”   
  
Adrian has the best smile. Between the hair and the smile, their show could go on forever. Kevin thinks he could watch Adrian smiling forever. He grins wide because that is fucking priceless there.   
  
“Yeah, but I’m not E and you certainly aren’t Vince. Break time’s up, superstar. Work’s calling your name.”   
  
Adrian turns to catch the stage manager motioning frantically at him to get his ass in gear and that’s the end of that.   
  
~*~   
  
Patron tastes better after a night of sweeping the Emmy’s. Of course, Patron tastes better when he’s drinking it out of someone else’s wet, willing mouth too, but Kevin is a long way past distinguishing the difference therein. His dick is solid enough to be putting a permanent crease in his three-thousand-dollar suit and Adrian’s hair is almost as stiff from all the product he’d put in it for the cameras on the carpet. His tongue burns from too much Patron and he thinks he could get alcohol poisoning from nothing more than breathing in Adrian’s tequila-soaked air.   
  
“Thought I wasn’t famous enough to get your dick hard?”   
  
Kevin rubs his hand hard over the line Adrian’s dick is stretching into his own tux. He’s glad his hands are big because Adrian is one of the few people who can make him feel small.   
  
“I never said I was a starfucker. That was all Piven, remember?”   
  
Adrian grinds into his hand and sucks a hickey into his neck with enough enthusiasm to have him grinding back unconsciously. He wishes they were both naked.   
  
“You never denied it either. You did say you hadn’t fucked enough girls in the year to make yourself a manwhore. So what? Are you telling me you’re all talk? It’s all bad tabloid press?”   
  
He manages to get a fist full of over-gelled curls, pulls Adrian down to suck at his mouth some more, fuck it out with his tongue. Kevin hopes the car gets them back to their hotel soon.   
  
“No. I’m saying you never asked me how many guys there’d been in the year. I think the tabloid might have forgotten a few names for the books that might push me over into manwhore status. You mind?”   
  
Adrian laughs as the car pulls to a stop, jerking them both back into their seats and jostling them apart enough for something that would pass for decency. He grabs the door before Kevin can do anything more than untuck his shirt to cover his dick. The cameras start flashing and Kevin catches a glimpse of Adrian’s smile. It blinds him more than the paparazzi ever could.   
  
“I think I won’t mind seeing the headlines on tomorrow’s paper if you won’t.”   
  
Kevin thinks he could grow to love trash mags if he can get more than one chance at mapping that smile from the inside out. He gets out of the car, smiles bright, and deliberately stands too close, letting the pictures take themselves. He figures it won't hurt him if the tabloids get it right for a change. 


End file.
